Mess Me Up
by galaxic
Summary: Ivan, a young and poor student, is lucky enough to find a good studio for an incredibly cheap price. The downside? It's haunted. AmeRus.
1. Chapter 1

Ivan, a young and poor student, is lucky enough to find a good studio for an incredibly cheap price. The downside? It's haunted. AmeRus.  
I am not a native English speaker, please disregard my mistakes, or correct them so I won't do it again.  
**Enjoy!**

* * *

**_Chapter 1 A New Beginning_**

It started from the very first night he moved into the studio. And it wasn't the light that flickered or a door that opened itself, like they had waved it off to be. It were footsteps. Footsteps that Ivan heard pacing back and forth through the living room. Every time they passed his door he dug his nails into his skin and pressed his face into his pillow. He couldn't fall asleep like this; not with that noise. It was impossible to tell whether it was just sounds he was hearing or whether someone was actually walking there. It were slow steps, as if the feet were dragged over the floor. Every few steps a shiver would run down Ivan's spine so violent that he was afraid it would draw the attention whatever was doing this.

When the footsteps slowed down to a stop right before his door he held his breath until he saw stars. He would have prayed to gods he didn't believe in if his mind hadn't been completely blank. He pulled up his knees and let out a silent sob. God, he hadn't been that scared in, well, not that long ago actually. Though now, he was frightened like a little child, because it weren't poverty or loneliness that tore him apart like usually, but by the monsters underneath his bed. Or, in this case, behind his door.

* * *

"It's not that bad," He mumbled to himself, mimicking the voice of a certain lady who happened to have sold the studio to him, "Just a few small things, you know, with the lights or doors." He chopped the vegetables with a little too much strength. "Oh, but it's nothing too big, nothing too bad!" With a quick move, everything landed in the pot. The water began to boil slowly. "Plenty of houses are cursed, but they hide it. This one too, but I'm not going to lie to you about that." He firmly placed the lid on the pot. "Yeah sure! Because not telling me about how fucked up this place is doesn't count as ly-"

"Such a foul mouth," A voice grinned behind him.

Ivan froze. For a few seconds he listened to the sharp noise of metal hitting the floor tiles and then, silence. There was no one else in the kitchen. Well, no one he could see. He grunted and angrily snatched the knife back up from the ground, throwing it into the sink and checking the fire. Yes, it had been turned up. Again. He lowered it back to what it should be and continued cooking. Without speaking another word, of course. Not a single part of him wanted to create more opportunities for _the thing_ to react to.

"Ignoring me? That's just so rude." It chuckled.

Ivan clenched his jaw and lifted the lid. The steam escaped and the scent of soup filled the room. He inhaled it deeply and picked up the blender. Halfway the blending it shut down. First it was just that, but then the radio shut down as well. Not without switching through a few other channels rapidly first, naturally. Everything went dark. He put the blender aside and stared through the window at the rosy sky for a moment. The sun had just set. There was little light left and the kitchen was growing darker steadily.

After a few minutes he tried to turn the light on again, without success. The radio and blender too didn't do anything. He smacked his fist on the counter. The soup would be ruined. He didn't have time or money to waste like that. He waited another five minutes. Ten minutes. But nothing changed. He refused to call out whatever caused it though, and instead angrily put away some stuff. He turned down the fire and got himself a bowl of half-blended soup. It scorched his tongue but he swallowed it nonetheless. He was too aggravated to even sit down. So there he stood in the middle of a dark kitchen, forcing one steamy spoonful of half-blended soup after another through his throat.

He put it in the sink and went to his bedroom, leaving the kitchen for what it was. His clothes were thrown into a corner and he took a deep breath as he slipped into his pyjamas. The bed was soft and inviting after the long day. Just as he lied comfortably he heard a noise coming from another room. It took him a moment to place it. The blender. He didn't move for a solid minute, but then he flung the sheets off of him and stomped to the kitchen. Everything turned back on. He put it off and back in the cupboard where it belonged. As he returned to his bedroom though, he could already tell with a hint of dread what awaited him.

For another three times, everything in the kitchen would turn back on the moment he would lie down. The microwave, the oven, the kettle, everything. He had to unplug each and every kitchen utility he could. The fire would burn too. Not only was all the noise and danger making him frustrated, and ultimately turning him into an insomniac, but he felt personally laughed with and provoked. He could almost feel the eyes of this monster peer down on him and smirk.

Ivan collapsed on his bed, almost ready to prop himself up again right away and return to the kitchen. But it remained silent. It took him a while to confirm it was truly quiet, but then finally he felt a hint of relief. He didn't dare to move, afraid to somehow elicit another session. His heavy eyelids finally closed when he was startled out of his sleep. The same misery, all over again. He dragged himself to the kitchen to turn everything off again. Needless to say, this continued for another few hours, until Ivan sat down on the couch for a moment, giving up on the idea of a bed, and promptly fell asleep there.

* * *

He woke up early the next morning with a sore neck and back. At least it was Saturday, which meant he could leave soon for work and return home late and tired. Hurriedly, he showered and got dressed. Between a bowl of cornflakes and brushing his teeth he checked whether nothing in the kitchen had been permanently damaged. Despite not finding anything that was broke, as if nothing had happened, he didn't experience the slightest hint of relief anymore. He already dreaded coming back home, and he hadn't left yet.

It was eight in the evening when he unlocked the front door. He reeked of cigarettes and sweat. Without paying attention to the house, Ivan went straight to the bathroom and undressed. His clothes were left on the floor, where they would have to wait until tomorrow before they would be picked up and washed. The water was pleasantly warm. He closed his eyes and braced himself.

Then it turned ice cold. Ivan stepped from underneath the stream of water and cursed. It started to turn warm. Too warm. Steam started filling the bathroom and Ivan quickly closed the faucet. He hadn't even gotten to the shampoo, but he stepped out of the shower and jerked his towel off the rack. He dried himself and walked to his bedroom, where he got himself clean pyjamas for the night.

The water started running again in the bathroom. Half-dressed, he turned around and went to the bathroom. In the opening of the door, he abruptly stopped. This was going to go the same way it had gone the previous night. He gritted his teeth. Running water was not some kind of a silly joke, unless he wished for a fantastic bill after only one month of living there.

"Can you fucking quit?" He spat and closed the faucet, to which the light started flickering. "Damn it, I've only been here for three godforsaken weeks! One night, I want to sleep well for one single night!"

The lights turned off. Complete silence fell over the place. Ivan ran his hand through his hair and waited. Nothing about that felt reassuring. It was also impossible to tell whether whatever he had exclaimed had been understood, or whether he was awaiting his next adventure. Perhaps the electricity had just shut down entirely. He pressed the light switch, but it remained pitch black around him. A deep sigh rolled over his lips.

"Goodnight," A low voice purred into his ear.

He jumped and turned around, but his eyes couldn't even distinguish a silhouette from the darkness. He extended his hands in front of him but there was nothing. He swore he could have felt someone's breath in his neck. A shiver ran down his spine, and he pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead. This was going to get him another headache. 'Goodnight', was that a joke? He did not care enough to overthink it and headed to bed. It seemed a little too easy like this, and his own wariness kept him awake. Every sound roused his suspicion, but all were false alarm. Within less than fifteen minutes the tiredness took over and he drifted off into unconsciousness.

It had been a while since he had had a dreamless night. No nightmares or waking up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and gasping for air. It was a pleasant change, one he could get used to.

As usually, he rushed through his morning. After all, every moment he spent in that studio was a step closer to insanity. Perhaps if he left the place while it was in such an innocent state, he would return to it and it would remain like that. With that wishful thought he plucked his jacket from a hook and hurried out of his house. An unnoticed figure sat perfectly motionless in the couch. It watched him leave and noticed how he forgot to lock the door behind him. Ivan's footsteps faded soon and the quiet returned. A soft click disrupted that briefly. "Gotta lock your doors, Ivan," Alfred chuckled, "We wouldn't want any uninvited guests."

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

I am not a native English speaker, please correct or disregard my mistakes. Thank you!  
**Enjoy~**

* * *

**_Chapter 2 "Black Coffee"_**

Between a pile of books and a bag of chips Ivan hung over his notes. In an automatic motion he drew small circles in the corner of one of his papers. His eyes read over the sentences again and again but it only became harder to dissect the meaning out of the letters. Anatomy was one of the most fascinating subjects Ivan could study, as long as it wasn't 2:16am. Two coffees and a shower hadn't been enough to keep him focused. The rhythmic sound of raindrops hitting his window was comforting, almost lulling him to sleep. He rubbed his temples and groaned softly, knowing that he should have studied better beforehand.

Without a warning his mug tipped over the edge of his desk. Ivan jumped in his chair, watching half a cup of coffee spill over the floor. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. Goodness, not now. He was too tired for this. His hands were trembling when he picked up the mug, which at least had only burst and not shattered. Whilst putting it aside in the kitchen he grabbed a roll of towels and sluggishly went to wipe the coffee from the floor. When he returned to his notes he came to the conclusion that if anything, he was at least more awake. Instead of writing the endless list of muscle groups down again though, he started sketching a skeleton. So far his productiveness. Merely five minutes later he folded his arms before him and laid his head down. Couldn't the information just connect to his brain like this? He closed his tired eyes.

* * *

He woke up with a startle, just in time to see the door of his room slam shut again before it slowly opened again and came to a halt as if it hadn't been moving at all. A little light-headed and shaking he threw a glance on the clock. That's when the real fear began. Soon adrenaline was chasing him through brushing his teeth and combing his hair. There were exactly twenty minutes left before he had to leave for his entrance exam. Running from the bathroom to the kitchen and back, a long line of Russian curses slipped over his lips. To his surprise, a cup of hot coffee waited for him on the kitchen table. He frowned, quickly poured it into the sink and put the cup away. No need to risk drinking weird stuff on such an important day. Instead, yesterday's half-eaten sandwich would have to do for breakfast, and a glass of water. A proper meal would come later.

* * *

When he returned home, he flung his shoes away and stretched. For a sleep deprived and permanently stressed student, he wasn't feeling too awful. He was however immediately distracted from whatever thoughts he had by an overwhelming scent of coffee. He frowned and scratched his neck, heading for the kitchen. All cups and glasses that he owned were standing neatly on his kitchen table. And all of them were filled with coffee. Ivan's jaw dropped. "God fucking damn it."

All the coffee he had had was used. He threw away the empty packages and leant his forehead against the window. Cars and humans passed, unaware of his stare, uncaring too. And he didn't care for them. How many times had someone stared through their window when he had been passing by? Could he go back there, being uncaring and uncared for? Ivan sighed and turned back to the coffee massacre, rubbing the cold spot on his forehead. He picked up a mug and inhaled the aroma deeply. It seemed to be normal coffee. He took a sip. Pure and black; the best a coffee could be. Since it would end up being one big waste either way, he took the cup with him to the living room and sat down in the small couch. He wondered whether this had happened because he had poured that cup into the sink this morning. That monster must have learned by now that Ivan hated wasting things, or at least it knew he was too poor to afford it. Perhaps he should refrain from buying coffee for a while. Or, well, not in large amounts. He did enjoy coffee.

After a stressful morning and an exam that had twisted his brains, Ivan wished he could have just gone straight to bed. Instead, he opened his laptop. How much coffee was too much coffee? Google opened. Not more than four cups it was. He groaned. There were about ten on his kitchen table. Why did he have so much cups and glasses when he was living on his own anyway? It sounded like a good idea to him that he shouldn't have too much of anything. On the other hand, that could be just what that possessed thing wanted him to think. If Ivan would start changing too many things now he would surely end up doing as the monster pleased within a short matter of time.

Maybe he could invite someone over for coffee? Although that was a nice idea, it was a little harder to put into practice. Ivan's list of friends was well, very short. He wasn't very familiar with anyone, hardly enough to ask them over. Maybe the neighbours? He perked up, realising he had no idea whom his neighbours were. The past three weeks had been stifling. Next to having to move and unpack stuff and of course study, he had had the amazing experience of dealing with a cursed demon that was ruining his life and abusing his coffee.

He took a second cup of coffee. Maybe this was what that, that thing, wanted. Maybe it wanted Ivan to first be sleep deprived, then too stressful and now forcefully gulping down large amounts of coffee. Ivan knew enough about the human body to say where this was going, and he didn't have an early death planned in his agenda. It was clever though, he admitted, and frightening.

He sighed in exasperation. Like this, he would be blocked in all his doings. He was becoming paranoia. And that too could have been the intention all along. And that thought too was a part of paranoia and paranoia was a bad condition to be in. He grabbed his head with both of his hands as if he could stop the whirlwind of thoughts.

Neighbours, Ivan should invite someone in. He checked the cups of coffee and was glad to see that they still felt pleasantly warm. He hoped nothing was wrong with them and he wouldn't poison his neighbour. So far, the coffee he had drank didn't seem to make him feel bad. Though he was feeling so bad already that he might just not notice it anymore. He quickly cleaned up some dirty clothes, empty plates and crumpled packages that were lying haphazardly over the place. When he opened a few windows to let the scent of coffee out and bring in some fresh air, a car caught his attention. Someone was parking in front of the neighbour's house. He jumped into his shoes and hurried outside.

"Ah, good morning," Ivan mumbled when he saw someone getting out of their car with grocery bags. "I mean, good afternoon, um, should I help?"

The young man stared blankly at him for a moment before saying anything. "Ah! You must be the new neighbour! Hi, I'm Matthew," He extended his free hand and Ivan quickly answered with a polite handshake.

"Yes, I'm Ivan," He reached out for a grocery bag and helped Matthew with bringing them to his home.

"Thanks, so, how is it so far in your new home? I've heard it's a pretty bad case actually. Did you know about the situation when you bought the place?" He started chatting, and gestured for Ivan to follow him to his kitchen. It was a cosy place with plenty of warm and soft colours, reminding Ivan of the house where he had grown up.

"Oh, well, a little. I noticed it was off." He stopped himself before he could trail of to the obviously low price that gave away the poor situation. "I was wondering whether you wanted to come over for a cup of coffee." He said before Matthew could ask another question.

The man hesitated for a moment, putting the last of his foods away. "Is it safe?" He said jokingly. Though it wasn't a joke.

"It's fine," He shrugged, finding it better not to phrase his slight concern for Matthew being at least a little weirded out if anything would happen.

A hint of relief went through him when Matthew gave him a bright smile. "Well then, I'd love to."

"How do you like your coffee?" Ivan asked as they entered the studio. He took Matthew's jacket and hung it somewhere. The aroma was still dominating his house but at least it was more bearable than before.

"Smells good here, I guess you really like coffee," Matthew inhaled deeply "I prefer tea though, thank you."

Ivan groaned internally and couldn't help but think that a certain house-demon was probably quite amused with that outcome. He tried to give his most convincing calm and polite smile. "I only have black tea, do you mind?"

It seemed Ivan's acting skills had improved well over time; he had practised happiness like it was a sport he didn't enjoy but had to do well for his father. What was more important though, was the house itself, which absorbed plenty of Matthew's attention. "I'll drink any tea you have," Matthew said while studying the place. He tried to hide his curiosity by offering small compliments on the furniture and the few decorations that Ivan had put up.

Ivan got himself a third cup of coffee, knowing his stomach would protest. He didn't even plan to finish it, like he hadn't gotten to finishing the second one. He made Matthew tea and they sat down in the couch.

"So, what's it like?" Matthew asked and leant back, brushing a hand through his curly blond hair and taking another good look around him. Ivan truly started to wonder whether there were things in the room that he didn't saw, because nothing really looked out of place or strange. "Honestly, I've been kind of curious, but that's what killed the cat, so I never really visited this place up till now."

Ivan frowned. "What cat was killed?" That was a rather unnerving thing to happen, not only because he was particularly fond of animals, but because if were killed then what difference would it make for some supernatural force to kill him?

"Huh? No, no," Matthew laughed, "It's an idiom. Curiosity killed the cat. It means that if you're too curious and being nosy it might get you into trouble."

Ivan nodded and felt heat rising to his cheeks. "Oh," He mumbled and looked at his feet, "Sorry."

Matthew waved it away and picked up his drink. "No problem man, where do you come from?"

"Moscow, Russia. But I've been here for several years now." The smell of coffee was a lot stronger in the living room, near the kitchen. Ivan feared what Matthew must think of it and he felt even more embarrassed. In fact, the scent was so overwhelming that he started wondering whether Matthew wouldn't think he was trying to cover up another scent. Like rotting corpses or something. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to change where his thoughts were going. "Sometimes it's normal here, other times I understand why they would have wanted to move away eventually."

"How so?" Matthew leant forward. "What kind of stuff happens?"

"Oh, um, all kinds of stuff." Ivan gestured vaguely and licked his lip. "Like, the lights flicker or the water starts running."

"If you don't mind me asking. What's the worst that's happened so far?" Matthew fired his questions at him like he had prepared an interview weeks beforehand. Ivan on the other hand had to juggle with words and fumble his way between being suspiciously vague and telling the truth.

"Well," Ivan scratched his neck and blinked a few times. "I guess, um, it's most troublesome for me at night. Sometimes there are noises or the temperature suddenly drops or rises."

"Woah," Matthew tried to hide his smile and amazement. He looked like a child listening to a spooky story. Then he straightened himself and nodded, "Yeah that sounds bothersome. But like no flying knives or breaking mirrors or, I don't know whether that's just from the movies to be honest, but I think that would be super creepy. Nothing dangerous like that right?"

"No." It was nothing. Except for when Ivan pressed his face into his pillow at night and wished he could just sink away into it. Or when he sat in his couch and cried silently because he hadn't slept more than two hours in the past three days and his alarm kept going off and doors were slammed shut and his blanket was pulled off of him. When his stuff was rearranged and he spent hours searching frantically for all his medical books that had been hidden in each and every impossible corner and nook of the studio. When his laptop started opening and closing programs on its own or the etiquettes on his medication had been swapped. "Nothing dangerous like that."

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Please review and let me know what you think!**


End file.
